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The Tale of the Mangy Manticore
The Tale of the Mangy Manticore
As told by Targas "The Red Fang" Malvoro himself:
As told by Targas "The Red Fang" Malvoro himself:
Not all beasts in the Irorium are monsters. Some are just men, broken wrong.
One storm-lit night, when I still wore my chain and pride on my shoulders, the Irorium hosted a spectacle none dared repeat—the Crimson Gauntlet. We were five fighters, chained together, set against a desert horror smuggled in by the worst kind of coin: a manticore, wings clipped, drugged to rage.
But they botched the brew.
The beast broke free mid-match, scattered blood and crowd alike, and vanished into the Foreign Quarter. It tore through stalls, leapt rooftops, until it found shelter in an old supply depot—the bones of this very building.
I followed it, alone. Not to slay it, but to look it in the eye.
What I found wasn't a monster. Its fur was patchy, its eyes… sad. It stared, quiet, then roared once—not at me, but the gods—and collapsed.
The fire it knocked over did the rest. It took with it two smugglers in the rafters and half the roof. I buried the creature beneath the stone and built this place in its honor.
Why?
Because it fought like a champion.
Because it died like a gladiator.
Because it stank like a guttercat.
And because everything worth drinking to should be a little mangy.
And because everything worth drinking to should be a little mangy.
Targas Malvoro, in firelight and blood
Targas Malvoro, in firelight and blood
~ Founder and Final Champion of the Crimson Gauntlet
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